Painted Faces
by archimedesis
Summary: Iel had always known she was beautiful. (Pre-canon. Iel-centric.)


_**Part I: The Mask**_

Iel had always known she was beautiful; women knew these things, and if they didn't, they soon found out. Her mother had told her that she must be above arrogance, however, that she must be humble. It was unseemly to admit to such things as beauty, but it was alright to know it.

The first time Iel became aware that beauty could be a boon, she had been twelve. Her mother had dressed her in a tight corset dress with long white ruffles and silvers bows. She had twisted Iel's hair so hard that the stretch of it made her scalp sting. And then, she had made Iel squeeze into slippers so small they dug into her ankles and pinched at her toes. It was for a party to which her mother had been invited, one hosted by a viscount. The whole ride there Iel bit her lip and remained silent, the way her mother had told her was best for a baroness's daughter.

By the time Iel reached top of the stairs of the viscounts mansion, she had burst into tears.

"It hurts," she insisted and wiped the tears away with her palms. "It _hurts_."

Her mother's nails had pinched the underside of her arms, leaving impressions of pale crescent moons. "Don't ruin this for me, Iel. I promise that if you ruin this for me, you won't think this hurts so much." Iel slowed her crying, dropping her arms down to her sides. "Do you see that boy over there?" She pointed to a dark-haired boy who had a throng of people beside him. "That's the viscount's son. Act _happy_."

And Iel did as she was told. She smiled as wide as she could at the boy who paid her no mind. All the while, Iel thought of the way the slippers dug into her heels with each step she took. She followed the boy the entire night, and danced with him when it was her turn, and she smiled.

Afterwards, when Iel and her mother were in the carriage once more, her mother frowned. "He didn't like you as much as I hoped he would," her mother remarked. "You smiled too much. Don't do that anymore." And Iel had nodded.

That night a maid had helped Iel wrap cloth around her ankles. The blood soaked through the fabric by the time the maid had left.

Iel stopped smiling at guests. As the years went by, she stopped smiling at anyone. Beauty looked best at its stillest.

 _ **Part II: The Cracks**_

There were tower magicians in the city. They practiced in the center of the town, where people would gawk at them and cheer whenever they had a play-fight. Although her mother kept her busy, Iel often paused to stare at them.

It was fine because most girls stared at them anyway. Sometimes an attendant would tell her, _they're very handsome aren't they?_ and Iel would nod along, but that wasn't the reason why she stared.

Iel wondered what it was like to have that much power. Magicians were invisible in some ways. They didn't bleed or cry or falter. They always fought to the very last breath. Iel looked down at her own hands. They were small and dainty, pale and smooth and baby-pink, only there to look lovely. A cut on Iel's hands would leave scars. And who would she be then?

No, Iel could never be anything but the daughter of a baroness, future wife of someone important.

 _ **Part III: The Break**_

Days after the black magician had saved them from the demon attack, her mother had not yet stopped boasting about it. She told Iel the black magician may have fancied her, and Iel nodded because that was all she was supposed to do. Iel had kept to her rooms, and no had tried to make her leave, thinking her to be too shaken by her near-death experience.

Instead Iel took the time to consider all she would have amounted to if she had died. Iel would have only been a bit-role, a baroness's daughter who was rather lovely but rather empty inside. She had no story anyone was willing to listen to. She could never be the hero. She was only a damsel-in-distress, the kind who never got a name. Iel had never been so miserable in her life. So pitiable, so weak. Unable to do anything but hope for a miracle.

A week of Iel pondering her unhappiness passed. In her mind an idea blossomed, washing over her like water over a wilting flower. Iel commanded the maid pack her things.

Another week passed, during which Iel had taken the entrance exams to Helios Academy. She was alone now truly. Iel now possessed her own life, but she had no mother to return to, no one to look towards but herself.

Iel hoped, one day, she would be able to say, "thank you."

* * *

A/n: I'm not really sure which nobility system Black Haze works with, but since they used the title "count" instead of "earl", I am assuming French. Likewise, Iel's family status has not been expanded upon (to my knowledge) but I am assuming she was the daughter of a baroness through conjecture. Props to black-haze-fangirl for bringing Iel to me my attention. I consider her narrative arc of "redemption" pre-canon to be something worth exploring. Point out any typos please, I am not perfect and I miss a few. Reviews are love :)

ps. to the guest reviewer. I'd love to visit your site but ffnet vanished the url.


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